Hiding From Myself
by amyleighc
Summary: Garcia returns to the BAU after a 10 month reassignment to the Los Angeles FBI field office. Decisions made while on assignment will drastically change her involvement in the BAU. How will things change when her friends realize she will be accompanying them on investigations as more that just a technical analyst?
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own Criminal Minds or any characters therein.**

Behavioral Analysis Unit, Quantico

0800

Penelope smiled to herself as she walked through the doors of the BAU. It was good to be back. 10 months ago she had been approached by Section Chief Strauss and offered a short-term relocation to the Los Angeles FBI field office. Her skills as a technical analyst were in high demand. The L.A. office was starting a team specializing in cyber-crime and needed an agent to train them in computer and network intrusion, as well as helping build the agency's contribution to the National Cyber Investigative Joint Task Force.

Strauss had instructed that she have little to no contact with her team in Quantico, as she was afraid her coworkers might prove to be a distraction from this important assignment. In reality, Strauss just wanted to make her life miserable. She never liked the seemingly "unprofessional" way Penelope spoke to her team on the phone, nor did she appreciate her unorthodox style and interests. Her only communication with the team had been through Hotch, who kept her briefly updated on current cases. He was the only one who knew she would be returning today.

As she looked around the bullpen she noticed the room mostly empty. The team had just returned from a case in Dallas the night before and would most likely be getting in late. She noticed that Hotch was already in his office pouring over mounds of paperwork scattered across his desk..

She knocked quietly on his door, smiling as he turned in her direction. "Hello, Sir".

Hotch got up from his desk as his eyes grew wide with surprise. "Garcia, it's good to have you back, I didn't know you'd be in so early. I told the rest of the team they could come in a few hours late." He put his hand on her shoulder. "So, are you ready to dive back in?" Before she could answer he looked her up and down before settling on her eyes, "You've changed, Garcia. I take it you completed the last few weeks of the agent academy qualification program I recommended since we last spoke?"

Penelope had struggled the last few years at the BAU. She had always felt so safe in her office. The only threat of harm was to her team as they were out on cases, not to her. But the longer she had worked in the BAU the more exposed she felt when they were gone. After her run in with Battle she thought she'd never feel safe again. She had been so trusting, so naïve, and as a result, now scared that without her team she couldn't protect herself. It wasn't required that she complete agent training, but after talking to Hotch about her fears he recommended that she look into it, or at the very least self-defense classes. Conveniently, her superior in Los Angeles was training a new set of recruits 5 months into her assignment. After Hotch pulled a few strings she was given special clearance to complete the program. Her friends at the BAU wouldn't recognize her; she barely recognized herself. She had slimmed down considerably. The curves were still there, but she had gained a lot of muscle from physical fitness drills and tactical exercises. Although she was now authorized to carry a weapon she kept it safely in her bag, not quite ready to wear it on her person. She felt, in a way, that her former self had died, and a new Penelope had taken her place.

Remembering that Hotch had asked her a question she quickly nodded her head. "Yes, sir."

"Excellent. I'd like to meet with you later with the rest of the team to discuss the changes in your agent status, as well as how we will go forward in using you on future cases."

Penelope's eyes grew wide at the thought.

"But, Sir, I have no intention of going out in the field with the team. I just wanted to learn to defend myself and my family. Is it mandatory that I do this?'

Hotch looked at her seriously but with gentleness in his eyes, "Garcia, no one is going to force you to take a case that makes you uncomfortable, but as you know we are spread thin as it is. You will always be our tech analyst and that is your wheelhouse, but I can't say that I won't pull you if needed to help with a case, is that understood?"

"Yes, sir."

He smiled gently. "Good, now go get reacquainted with your office and I'll call you in if I need anything.

Penelope walked back through the bullpen toward her office. As she walked past her coworkers desks she noticed a pink fuzzy pen sitting on one of them. If she wasn't mistaken that was Morgan's desk.

She laughed out loud as she passed by. Her team must miss her more than she thought, especially him.

2

Morgan was beat. They had just landed this morning around 2am after completing a particularly bad case. Cases involving children were always hard for him. There were days that he felt like he'd never be free of the hold Buford had on him. Every time he thought he was close to forgetting, they'd get a case that touched too close to home. When he got home in the wee hours of the morning all he could think of was how much he missed his baby girl. 10 months was a long time. He hadn't had any contact with her, per Hotch's request. They were told her relocation could last up to a year. What he wouldn't give to talk to her for just a few minutes.

After tossing and turning the rest of the night he gave up on getting any sleep, unable to rid his mind of nightmares. He found himself back at work bright and early. Coffee in hand, he walked past Penelope's office and saw a woman searching through her personal files. He shook his head, wondering who they got as their temporary tech analyst this time. He caught site of her from behind and couldn't help but appreciate those curves. He leaned against the doorway admiring the site. Long blonde curls, short black pencil skirt, high heels, and muscled calves. He put on his best lady-killer smile and walked toward her.

"Excuse me, I'm Supervisory Special Agent Derek Morgan, I don't believe we've…." As the beauty in question turned around the words died in his throat. His mouth became dry and his heart threatened to beat out of his chest.

"Cat got your tongue, sweet cheeks? Derek Morgan, I don't believe I've ever seen you speechless." She said as she took hold of his chin and closed his mouth.

He quickly grabbed her in a tight hug, hoping that his shallow breathing and pounding heart wouldn't give him away. "Baby girl, you just surprised me that's all. I've missed you."

Penelope studied him as she pulled back from his hold, trying to gauge the thoughts behind those beautiful brown eyes. Whatever feelings she thought passed through those eyes had quickly been replaced by cool resolve. That was the Morgan she knew. He quickly pulled away and seemed to be in a hurry to get back out to the bullpen.

"Look, I have some work to finish from this last case, maybe we can catch up later. You can fill me in on how you coped with being away from me for so long." He grabbed her hand, trying not to notice how soft it felt in his grasp, "Good to have you back, sweetness."

As Derek left her office she found herself letting out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. Had Morgan really just hit on her? Not just shameless flirting, but really, truly hit on her? Or had it only been because he thought she was someone else? She banished the thought from her mind as she turned to back toward her files.

News spread quickly that Garcia had returned as the rest of the team slowly made their way into work. Reid, J.J. and Prentiss were standing in her office just staring at her.

J.J was the first to break the silence with a bone-crushing hug and a tearful voice, "We've missed you so much, I didn't know how much longer we'd make it without you. Henry has gotten so big and asks about his aunt Penelope all the time."

Reid spoke up, "I'll have you know I missed a very important sci-fi convention while you were away because I had no one to help me with my costume." His tone was matter of fact, but the smile on his face betrayed him.

Emily added, "I'm just glad you're back because Morgan has been an absolute pain in the ass. We've burned through every spare tech analyst that's come through these doors."

J.J proceeded to elbow her in the side. "What was that for?"

"What she means is that Derek has a tough time communicating with other tech's who…"

"Don't feed his ego?" Garcia interjected.

J.J. smiled knowingly. "You could put it that way."

Penelope laughed and quickly hugged each one of them before shooing them out of her office. "Alright, enough with the chit-chat. The sooner that paperwork gets done the sooner we can catch up."


	2. Chapter 2

**I do not own Criminal Minds or any of the characters.**

The day wore on as everyone finished reports from the last case while Garcia spent time looking over new cases for the BAU to cover. Each left early to go home and change as Rossi invited the team to his place for dinner and drinks so they could all catch up.

Penelope looked through her closet for something to wear. Usually this wasn't an issue. She loved to shop and always had tons to choose from. Bright colors, busy patterns, and clunky jewelry were her comfort. But the problem was that all of the training she had done in California changed her body. Gone was the pudge around her tummy and legs. Her clothes were too big. She hadn't had much time to buy a new wardrobe so she was stuck with a couple dresses she had picked up for special events during her reassignment. She pulled out a knee length dress that hugged every curve. It was a deep shade of red that matched her signature lipstick. She pulled her hair into a loose side braid that she draped over her shoulder.

She looked in the mirror, wondering why she was shaking, "Why am I so nervous? These are just my friends." Her security blanket was gone. Her weight, her clothes, and her naiveté were gone. She had nowhere to hide. But ultimately she knew her nervousness stemmed from another source entirely.

"Here goes nothing." She whispered to herself as she walked out of her apartment.

As the rest of the team filed into Rossi's kitchen to watch him cook, Derek kept watching the door. Conversations were going on around him but his thoughts were elsewhere. This was not lost on all the others in the room. Reid sat down beside him asked, "Morgan, are you familiar with the proverbs of Poor Richard as published in a popular almanac between the years of 1732 – 1758?"

Derek wasn't sure where this was going but before he could reply Reid continued, "Poor Richard was the pseudonym that Benjamin Franklin used when publishing his widely popular annual almanac. Franklin, a tireless and industrious polymath, was fixated on such improving aphorisms and published numerous of such in the guise of Poor Richard. Have you heard the familiar proverb, '_The watch pot never boils_'? It's meant to be understood as a reminder that"…

Derek put his hands up, "Reid, I get the point."

Reid looked very pleased with himself, as did everyone else in the room. Morgan excused himself to the bathroom, as the rest waited for Rossi to finish up cooking dinner.

The doorbell rang and Rossi pointed to Hotch, "Aaron, come man the kitchen, while I welcome our last guest." He said as he winked.

Rossi opened the door to a beautiful site. He'd never seen Garcia like this, "_Cara Mia_, you look beautiful." He took her hand and led her inside.

Penelope blushed as she took his hand. "Thank you, sir."

As she was ushered in, Derek had returned from the bathroom.

Rossi grabbed the food and directed everyone out to the patio. Penelope walked at the back of the group as Morgan came up behind her. He lightly put his hand on the small of her back and bent down close to her ear.

"You look good enough to eat baby girl." He whispered.

"Not before dinner, sweetness, you'll ruin your appetite." She whispered back as she walked away from him.

He bit down hard on his lip. How he missed this woman.

As dinner was winding down and the conversation began to slow, Hotch cleared his throat and directed his attention to Penelope, "Garcia, I thought maybe this would be a good time to share a little bit with the team about your time at the L.A. field office."

"Yes, Sir." She looked around nervously as everyone stared in her direction. She especially felt exposed under Derek's gaze as he waited to hear from her.

"Well, I'm sure you all know the reason I was asked by Section Chief Strauss to relocate to California. My main objective was to train a new team on investigating high-tech crimes such as cyber-based terrorism, espionage, computer intrusions, and major cyber fraud. I also helped to get the field office connected to other hubs of the FBI who also specialize in cyber-crime through the National Cyber Investigative Joint Task Force. I won't bore you with the details of my job description as I'm sure what Hotch really wants me to talk about is something else entirely."

She looked up to see questions in everyone eyes. She swallowed hard and stammered, "Um…While I was away I was given an opportunity to um…complete agent training."

She looked down nervously, unsure how to proceed. "I'm sure you've all noticed that I look a little different. I spent time not only doing case exercises and operational skills, I also completed the physical training, and firearm qualification."

She paused at the silence and waiting for a reaction. J.J. was the first to speak up, "Penelope, I'm so proud of you! Agent training is so difficult, why didn't you tell us, so we could be there to support you?"

"It's not that I didn't want you all to know, I just thought this was something I needed to do on my own. All of you are so busy on investigations and casework that I didn't think you needed the added stress of worrying about me. I kept in touch with Hotch as he was the one who suggested I get the training in the first place."

She had worried so much about what her team would think, but all she saw on their faces was pride and excitement. Everyone began to offer her congratulations and tease her about coming on cases with them. The only silence came from him. Derek just sat there with no expression. She couldn't read him, couldn't gauge how he was processing it, but it didn't look good. She desperately wanted him to speak, wanted to know how he felt about her decision.

He looked at her and with an accusing tone asked, "I thought you didn't believe in guns?"

"I didn't…It's just…"

He cut her off before she could say more. "So Penelope Garcia, the woman who is scared of weapons, who writes with fuzzy pens and has to look at cute pictures to block out the images of crime scene photos, completed agent training?" He laughed under his breath. "I'll believe it when I see it."

She lowered her head to look at her hands, a sob rising in her throat. She forced herself not to cry. Instead, she became angry, looking at Derek with hurt in her eyes.

"What is your problem? What, you can't handle that I might not be the helpless female that you think I am?"

"Baby girl…"

"Don't you dare, _baby girl_, me. I thought you'd be proud, happy even, that I would go out of my comfort zone to better myself, to better my career, to learn to protect myself and my team."

"Penelope, I didn't mean…"

"No, I know what you meant. Special Agent Derek Morgan doesn't have poor little Penelope Garcia hiding behind him for protection anymore. You don't know how to see me as anything but a back-up, a stroke to your ego." She spat out.

The table sat in silence, wide-eyed at the spectacle that was taking place before them.

Penelope stood up. "Agent Rossi, I want to thank you for a beautiful dinner. I'm sorry to have ruined everyone's evening, but I have to go." She quickly pushed her chair in and proceeded to leave.

"Garcia, wait!" Morgan shouted and stood to go after her. Hotch grabbed his shoulder to keep him from following.

"Let her be. She needs some time."

Derek angrily sat in his chair as everyone took turns glaring at him. "What?! Why is everyone angry with me? I was just saying what everyone else was thinking. Do you all really see Garcia working cases with us? She's too naïve, too fragile for work like this."

Derek focused his gaze on Hotch. "I can't believe you. You actually encouraged her to do this? Why would you ever think that would be good for her?"

Hotch calmly responded in an attempt to diffuse his anger, "That's something that only Penelope can explain. She had hoped to do that this evening, but obviously didn't get the chance."

Derek put his head into his hands.

Reid spoke up. "You know, I struggled with the same things as Garcia. If you remember the first few years I was with the BAU I didn't carry a gun. I started to believe I wasn't a true asset to the team as I couldn't protect my partners. I placated my fears by focusing on what Gideon told me, that I didn't need a gun to kill someone. But there came a time when remembering those words didn't help me anymore. Not to mention the fact that I also struggled to look at crime scenes day after day without seeing them in my dreams every night. You know, traumatized people chronically feel unsafe inside their bodies: The past is alive in the form of gnawing interior discomfort. Their bodies are constantly bombarded by visceral warning signs, and, in an attempt to control these processes, they often become expert at ignoring their gut feelings and in numbing awareness of what is played out inside. They learn to hide from themselves. Maybe Garcia is dealing with her trauma by becoming another version of herself."

Hotch stood up from the table, "Maybe we should all call it a night, get some sleep, and then talk about this in the morning."

Everyone nodded their agreement, said their goodbye's and headed home.

Except Derek, there was something he needed to take care of first.

As soon as Penelope got home she shed her clothes. As she showered she let the conversations of the night replay in her mind. As tears coursed down her cheeks she began to second guess the decisions she had made over the last year. Why did she open herself to hurt? This was the very reason she wanted to complete training in the first place, to protect herself.

She shut off the shower, dried off, and changed into soft cotton pajamas. She left her hair damp in soft waves down her back. As she headed into the kitchen to get a drink she heard a knock at the door. She knew that could only be one person.

She walked to the door and pressed her ear up against it. She could hear him breathing.

He put his mouth close to the door. "Baby girl, I know you're there. I can see the shadow of your feet under the door."

She could almost hear him smiling as he said it. Her resolve caved and she opened the door.

"That's my girl." He whispered. No sooner had he stepped through the door, she grabbed him around the waist and tucked her head into his chest. He wrapped an arm around her back and ran his free hand through her hair. "I'm sorry."

In a voice muffled by his shirt she began to apologize, "I'm sorry, too."

"Why are you sorry? You have nothing to apologize for."

He pulled her away from him by the shoulders and looked into her puffy eyes. He held her face in his hands and wiped the remaining tears away with his thumb. "Do you have any idea how much I've missed you, Penelope?"

He hardly ever used her given name. There was something possessive about it, and she liked it.

He led her by the hand over to the couch and sat down. She nestled into his side as he began to talk

"I didn't mean to be such a jerk over at Rossi's. I guess I was just shocked and didn't know how to respond. All I could think of was how much this didn't sound like you. I felt like my girl left 10 months ago and someone I didn't know came back in her place."

He stopped himself, remembering the reason he came here.

"Something I didn't give you the chance to do was explain why you decided to pursue agent training while you were gone. My undivided attention is yours if you want to talk about it."

His gentle gaze made her nervous, so she kept her eyes on her lap where their hands rested.

She held onto his hand and ran circles on the back with her finger while she thought of how to start.

"I got tired of feeling helpless. I am limited to my desk, limited to the information on my computer screens, limited to relying on others to protect me. After being shot…" she looked down as he squeezed her hand, not wanting to relive those memories. "I felt so stupid. How did I not see what you saw? How did I not stop and think that this man really wasn't attracted to me? How could I not sense danger? I wanted to learn how to protect myself, how to protect my family. I thought that if I learned the skills, then I wouldn't be afraid anymore."

He smiled gently and asked, "Does this mean you don't need me to protect you anymore?"

She looked up and laughed. "Oh, hot stuff, I'll never need you to stop protecting me. A girl still needs to be taken care of, no matter how tough she is."

Derek leaned down a few inches from her face and put a strand of hair behind her ear. "When I saw you in your office yesterday, all I could think of was how beautiful you looked. You drive me crazy, woman."

She blushed and looked down, not able hold his gaze. He lifted her chin with his hand as he saw the uncertainty in her eyes. "Penelope, that's not a flirtatious tease. I mean it." She looked up and saw the seriousness in his eyes.

"It's late. You need to get to bed and I need to get home." He lifted her hand to his lips and lightly kissed it. "Until tomorrow, my lady."

"Goodnight, my love.


	3. Chapter 3

It seemed like Derek had just fallen asleep when he heard his phone ringing on the night stand.

"Seriously?" He mumbled, wanting nothing more than to ignore the call and go back to sleep. He squinted as he looked at the bright light glowing from his phone.

He answered, his voice thick from sleep.

"Garcia?"

A loud and cheery voice assaulted his ears."You're supposed to say, _Good morning, Princess_…and then I'm supposed to say, _I'll show you a good morning hot stuff_."

"It's too early…" he growled.

"Oh, my chocolate Adonis, it is never too early to profess your love…"

"Penelope, is there a reason you are calling me at 4 o'clock in the morning?"

"Nothing like dousing a girl with cold water. Duty calls, my love. Hotch wants everyone in the office ASAP. We have a new case."

"Alright, baby girl, see you soon."

"Au revoir mon amour."

* * *

Penelope had been up since Hotch had called her at 3:30. He had her contact the team and briefed her on the new case. Nothing like hitting the ground running.

As Garcia turned the corner toward the board room she almost ran right into Derek. Taking a sip of his coffee, he thought he'd try again.

"Good morning, princess."

"Good morning." She said quickly as she started to walk away from him.

He gave her a look of mock hurt. "That's it? You're gonna leave _me_ hanging?"

She stopped, leaned in, and said in the most seductive voice she could muster, "I'll show you a good morning, handsome."

Hotch walked by at that exact moment, "It's too early, you two."

Morgan smiled and said, "Yeah, that's what I told her."

* * *

Garcia grabbed the remote and brought up the latest case information.

"Good morning my early birds, I wish I had better news for you. Sarah Roberts, 35 years old, was found stabbed and strangled in her home in Evanston, Illinois. She was found by her husband, Marcus, around 12am when he returned home from a night out with his buddies. Cook County police contacted us as this is the 3rd victim in the last month with a similar MO. Each victim is a woman in her mid-thirties, white, and blonde. Each live in affluent neighborhoods of Evanston. All three were stabbed twice in the lower left torso and then strangled. All three were killed in the early evening while their husbands were out of the house, and there was no sign of forced entry into any of the homes."

Rossi spoke up, "Well the MO is pretty specific. Although based on the crime scene photos you can tell with the first and second victims there was hesitation in the stab wounds. Nervousness, perhaps. But in the most recent murder the wounds look clean and precise. The unsub is honing their craft."

Not looking up from the photos, Derek mused, "The unsub must know the area well, all of these murders occurred within a 10 mile radius. They're territorial in their killing, confident enough to murder three women, but not quite confident enough to leave their comfort zone."

Reid looked up, "Lester Harrison had a similar MO. In the 1970's he killed 6 women. Aroused by the thought of female suffering, Harrison derived satisfaction from beating and stabbing his victims, he even once sampled cannibalism in the case of Lee Wilson. All of his kills happened in or around Grant Park in downtown Chicago. Though in this case I see no signs of sexual deviance of any kind."

Prentiss looked up and asked, "Other than being 30-something, blonde-haired, affluent white women, do any of our victims share commonalities?"

Garcia answered, "Yes. The police are investigating this as a racially motivated crime."

Everyone looked up at her with confusion on their faces.

Morgan asked, "How do they figure that the death of three white women is racially motivated?"

"Well, it seems that all three women were all married to African American men. The unsub may not be choosing the women solely based on physicality, but also their interracial marriages."

Hotch began to pack up his paperwork, "We need to head out as soon as possible. Garcia, you'll will be accompanying us this time. We will be using you mostly as our technical analyst, but know that I will pull you if we need the back up. Wheels up in 30."

The team gathered their things and headed out.

* * *

"You're awfully quiet, baby girl." Morgan stated.

"Oh no, I'm fine. Just thinking about how real this all is. This is what I wanted right? Do you think I'm ready?"

Derek grabbed her hand. "Penelope, they don't just pass people through the agent certification program for no reason. You'll be fine. Don't forget, you have all of us. We won't let anything happen to you..._I _wont let anything happen to you."

Penelope squeezed his hand and thanked him for the sentiment. "I uh, need to stop by my office. See you on the plane?"

"You bet."

As she walked away Derek's smile turned in to a look of worry. He didn't dare tell Penelope of his fears, as he was still trying to prove to her that he was proud of her for her accomplishments and believed in her abilities. God help him if anything happened to her on his watch. He gathered his things and headed to the plane.

* * *

As Penelope finished grabbing her things from her office her hands shook in nervousness. She took her gun out of her bag and placed it in a holster around her waist. She wore a jacket over her blouse to hide it as best she could. She really hoped they wouldn't need her in the field. Being squared away at the police station behind her computer sounded just fine to her. She wasn't ready.

* * *

As everyone settled into their seats on the plane, Penelope walked down the aisle last. She took the last seat available beside Reid and across from Morgan.

Morgan raised an eyebrow as he looked at her. "Uh-oh, Mama's packing some heat. Remind me to stay on your good side." He said as he winked at her.

Reid leaned over, "Do you feel comfortable with it yet?"

"I'm not really sure how to answer that. If you mean in the context of shooting another human being, then I guess we'll find out when it happens."

Derek gave her a sobering look. "You'll be fine. Stop worrying."

They all sat in silence as the plane began its descent. Morgan was looking out the window, lost in his own thoughts.

Penelope spoke quietly, "Are you going to call your family, let them know you're in town."

He shook his head. "No. Mom will just worry, and I don't need to have that on my mind during a case. I'll just call her when we finish up."

"You know I still haven't met her. Any woman who can put up Derek Morgan for that long must be a saint."

Derek smiled, "Well, you may have never met her, but she knows all about the great Penelope Garcia. Although the first couple years I knew you mom thought your name was baby girl."

"You talked to your mom about me? All good, I hope." She was secretly pleased about this.

"Why wouldn't I tell my mom about my best friend? You have nothing to worry about, she already loves you." _Like I do, _He thought.

Hotch directed everyone back to their case files. "When we land I want to hit the ground running. Rossi and J.J., I want the two of you to interview the family members of the most recent victim and get in contact with family and friends of the other two. Reid, I want you and Prentiss to head to the medical examiner's office for autopsy reports on all three victims. Garcia, I want you set up at the local precinct digging through records on all of our victims. I want to know where they work, who their friends are, if there is anything in their past we need to know about. Morgan and I will head to the last crime scene."

* * *

Penelope wasted no time settling into her makeshift office at the local precinct. She typed in the names and social security numbers of the three victims. Apparently they had a lot more in common than they originally thought. She quickly called Morgan to let him know what she found.

"Baby girl, you're on speaker."

"Okay, so these ladies have quite a bit more in common than just their looks and love life. All three of the victims were originally from Chicago. Our first victim, Shauna Wright, 33, grew up on the south side of Chicago. Her father was an abusive alcoholic, had a rap sheet a mile long. Her mother divorced her father and the two of them moved to Evanston when Shauna was 13 years old. Our second victim, Myra King, 34, is like a record on replay. Raised on the west side of Chicago, father was convicted of murder when she was 10 years old, struggled with drug and alcohol addiction, mother moved her to the suburbs after her father went to prison. And our last sweet girl, Sarah, 34, also grew up on Chicago's south side, mom left dad when she was 8 after he beat both of them to a bloody pulp. They, of course, relocated to Evanston."

Morgan looked at Hotch, "The fact that the unsub knows these personal facts about the victims means that they were close to them. How else would you know those intimate details?"

"Oh, my sweet, I wasn't finished. All three of our victims had white mothers and black fathers. Before you ask, yes, I know that all of the girls are blonde haired and blue-eyed, how could they possibly have a black father? Well, I will spare you the suspense. All of the mothers had these girls in previous relationships with white men. All of these men were abusive. They left the relationships while their girls were young and their new boy toys raised these young ladies as their own. Doesn't seem like these women did much better, they just jumped from abuser to abuser. And for the finale, my dears, all three women are graduates of Wheaton College and they all graduated with degrees in urban studies."

Hotch answered, "Great work, Garcia. If you could get us the contact information…

"For the director of the Urban Studies program? The address and phone number are being sent to your phones now. I've already called ahead and he has openings at 2 and 4pm."

"You're amazing, baby girl."

"Tell me something I don't know, handsome."

* * *

Morgan and Hotch walked through the Roberts' home until they found the police officer in charge.

The portly officer looked up at them, annoyance in his crossed arms. "You must be the Feds. We already scoured the place, haven't found much."

"Has everything been left as it was when you arrived?" Hotch questioned the officer.

"Yes, sir, but like I told you, we didn't find much."

Morgan put his hand on the door frame and felt for any rough edges. "Hotch, there is no evidence of a break-in. The victim either knew the unsub, or felt safe enough to let them into the house without her husband home."

Hotch was looking at two glasses that were lying in the sink. "Morgan, look at this. Both glasses have a little bit of wine left in them. The victim wouldn't let a stranger into her home and then share a drink with them. She had to have known them."

Hotch's cell began to ring.

"Go ahead Reid."

"Sir, we talked to the medical examiner and he deduced that all three victims died from asphyxia. It seems the unsub stabbed the victims first in an attempt to subdue them, then killed them by means of strangulation. Something interesting we found is that there is a considerable amount of bruising on the necks of all three victims. These bruises are an indication of the process of squeezing, re-gripping, and then squeezing the neck again. Also evidenced by the size and depth of the bruising is the size of the unsub's hands. They are abnormally small. I think we may be looking for a woman."


	4. Chapter 4

J.J. and Rossi shared sympathetic glances with one another as they began interviewing the third husband. Marcus Roberts was beyond broken. He had his head down on the table in front of them as he choked down a sob.

J.J. spoke first, "Mr. Roberts, we are so sorry for your loss. I cannot imagine the pain you must be feeling. Would you be up to answering a few questions for us?"

Marcus looked up, but seemed to look through her instead of at her. "Your hair. It looks just like hers. So beautiful…"

Rossi cleared his throat, "Mr. Roberts…"

Marcus looked over at him and he composed himself. "Yes. I can answer your questions. Anything to help find the bastard that did this to my wife."

Rossi began, "Tell us about that night, before you arrived home."

Marcus closed his eyes and tried to remember. "One of my buddies, Gerald, had just gotten a promotion at his job. We all went out to celebrate. All of us have been friends since high school. We were stupid when we were kids. Drinking, drugs, getting messed up on the street. But we got out of the city, moved on with our lives. We told ourselves we didn't want that life for our families. We met that night at a bar a few minutes outside the city. We drank, shared stories, and went home. It was a normal night. I pulled up to the house at 11:30. There were still a few lights left on. I figured Sarah had just waited up for me. She says she can't sleep without me." He smiled at the thought. Tears began to roll down his cheeks.

"I got to the front door and it was open. I started to worry because that isn't like her. She's obsessive about the doors being locked, she checks them 3 or 4 times a night before she goes to bed. I got to the kitchen and that's where…that's where…I can't, I can't do this, please." Marcus hid his face in his hands, unable to contain the sobs any longer.

J.J put her hand on top of his. "Take all the time you need."

J.J Stood with Rossi outside of the interview room.

"We're not getting anywhere." Rossi paced the room. "We're getting the same information from every husband. It's like we've heard the same story three times. Husband comes home, door was open, wife is dead, there's blood everywhere, he calls the cops, that's it. None of them saw anything, none of them know of anybody. We got a whole lotta nothing."

"Excuse me," Marcus came out of the interview room and approached the pair. "I just thought of something. Something in the weeks leading up to Sarah's death. She meets with some girlfriends of hers every couple weeks. They meet over at Wheaton. She never really went into detail with me about what they do or what they talk about, I assumed it had to do with her past. She never told me details of her childhood, she didn't want to relive it, and I didn't want to push her. She said it was like going to therapy, the group was helping her heal. But after last week something changed. She said she wasn't going anymore. Something about a disagreement with some of the other women. I'm sorry I don't know any names or specifics…"

J.J. smiled sympathetically, "Don't apologize, this information will help us narrow down people we may need to question."

Marcus nodded. "If there isn't anything else you need from me, I'd like to go home now."

Rossi reached out and shook his hand. "Absolutely. Let us know if you need anything, and don't hesitate to call if you remember anything else."

* * *

J.J. walked into Garcia's makeshift office.

"Welcome to Penelope Garcia's…"

J.J interrupted her. "Wait, let me guess. Penelope Garcia's house of misogynistic mysteries?"

Penelope looked at her with her mouth hanging open.

"I was actually going to go with Penelope Garcia's little house of horrors, but I think I like yours better. We should go on tour together. With your quick wit and my ridiculously good looks, we could be show stoppers."

"As appealing as that sounds, Garcia, I'll stick to my day job."

"So what brings you in here my sweet?"

"I actually need you to look up some information on our victims and their involvement at Wheaton."

Garcia smiled at her. "Well today is your lucky day as I have already spent the last few hours surfing the information highway that is the Wheaton College database. Morgan and Hotch are meeting with the urban studies director any second and I wanted to get a head start on anything they might need, though I'm sad to say, there are hundreds of people who completed the same program over the last few years, so I have no idea where you want me to start, I…"

"Garcia!" J.J's loud voice broke her out of her rant. "I have some parameters for you to search."

A large smile was plastered on Penelope's face, "You know just how to brighten a girl's day. Throw it at me."

"Okay, I need you to look at any support groups, clubs, or extra-curriculars that are popular with alumni who graduated with an emphasis in urban studies. Marcus Roberts told us that his wife had recently stopped attending a meeting at the campus with some girlfriends of hers."

Garcia scanned through the results on her screen, "I'm not picking up anything that involves any of our victims." She tapped her pen to her lips in thought. "Wait a second, a lot of groups that meet at colleges aren't necessarily affiliated with or officially recognized by the school, and therefore wouldn't be found in the school database. Let me search for anyone who might have booked a conference room or study room regularly that meet the same parameters you gave me."

J.J. watched the computer screen hoping they'd get a lead. Just then Garcia started typing in earnest.

"It says here that a Mara Lewis and Carla Brown, both doctoral students, lead a support group for women who were victims of domestic violence. I don't have any other information as members aren't listed for their own safety. But it does give contact information for the two leaders in addition to our very own Sarah Roberts."

"Garcia, send that to Morgan and Hotch as soon as you can. Rossi and I are going to meet up with Reid and Emily to see if they found anything else. Thanks again, you're the best."

* * *

Morgan looked at the man sitting across from him. He was sweating and his skin looked clammy. His eyes kept darting from his desk to Hotch, then back to his desk. He dared a glance at Morgan and seemed to be intimidated, scared even.

Morgan spoke first. "Mr. Reitz, I'm SSA Derek Morgan, and this is SSA Aaron Hotchner. Thank you for agreeing to meet with us, we know you're a busy man."

He look at Derek and said, "The woman on the phone didn't talk like I had much of a choice. When I told her my schedule was booked for the day she told me if I refused to meet with you that I could be charged with hindering a murder investigation. I told her she couldn't bully me into anything. She asked me if I wanted to willingly cancel my meetings, or if I wanted her to hack into my computer and cancel them for me."

Derek had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. He wasn't the only man to be on the receiving end of her tongue lashing. He was secretly pleased at her aggressiveness.

Hotch looked very seriously at Mr. Reitz.

"Sir, has it concerned you at all that three of your former students have been found murdered in the last 2 weeks? Did it not occur to you that perhaps that connection could have been shared with law enforcement earlier?

Mr. Reitz looked annoyed. "Look, do you know how many students come to Wheaton to enroll in urban studies every year? Hundreds of them. People want to experience what it's like to live in a diverse community. They live in the very neighborhoods they're studying about. It's a highly sought after program for its emphasis on practical application. Many of our students come from broken families, looking for answers to their lifetime of pain in a text book. Could it not be possible, based on their past involvement in violent relationships, that all three girls were killed for totally unrelated reasons? All of them graduated years ago and have no continual ties with the college."

Morgan gave him a hard look. "Are you kidding me? 3 women in 2 weeks with similar victimology and you think it's unrelated? We aren't attacking you or the urban studies program. We're not looking at you as a suspect. We are just trying to get some answers on why this killer is choosing these women, and the only thing they have in common is this school. We're not asking for answers you don't have, we're asking for cooperation. Are we clear?"

Mr. Reitz nodded begrudgingly. "I will do my best to provide you with any information you need."

A light knock on the door sounded and a young woman entered the office, dropping off a file on the desk in front of them.

"Mr. Reitz, I'm sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to submit the final draft of my dissertation for your review before my defense date."

"Of course, Mara, I've been looking forward to it. Agent Morgan, and Agent Hotchner, this is Mara Lewis. She is one of two doctoral students completing their dissertation under my supervision."

As she went to shake their hands Derek's phone began to ring. He stood up. "Excuse me, I need to take this."

* * *

Derek stepped right outside door.

"Hey mama, give it to me good."

"Now babycakes, pillow talk doesn't start until after hours. We're still on the clock."

"You know what I mean, woman."

"Okay, okay. We've discovered the connection of all three victims and their involvement at Wheaton. Our last victim's husband mentioned that his wife had attended meetings at the college and recently had a falling out with some of the members of the group. I did some digging, and well, some hacking into private files protecting member information, and I found that all of our girls were in a domestic violence support group that met at the college twice a month. The leaders of the group were doctoral students Carla Brown and Mara Lewis."

"Garcia, did you say Mara Lewis?"

"Loud and clear, doll face."

"Okay, thanks baby girl. Oh, is that invitation for pillow talk still standing?" He smiled and was sure he could hear her blushing.

"When have you ever needed an invitation?"

Derek looked back toward the office and found Mara Lewis staring curiously at him. Uncertain if she had overheard any of their conversation, he quickly ended the call.

"Gotta jet, mama."

"Au revoir, mon amour."

Derek stepped into the office and looked directly at Hotch. "Could I speak with you privately?"

Hotch excused himself into the hallway.

"What did you get from Garcia, other than an invitation for pillow talk?" Hotch's face didn't even flinch as the words come out of his mouth.

Derek's eyes grew wide.

"Before you ask, no you weren't that loud, I just have an uncanny ability to hear what's going on in the background when I'm engaged in conversation with someone else. What did she find out?"

"All three of our victims were part of a support group for women who were victims of domestic violence. One of the leaders of the group was our very own Ms. Mara Lewis. If you ask me, I think both of the people in that office know something that they aren't telling us. Do you find it strange that they didn't contact us or the police department? Three women from your support group end up murdered, and you're not the least bit worried about why?"

Hotch looked back into the office to find Reitz and Lewis speaking quietly. "Whether they're involved or not, they're the best chance we've got for a lead."

Both of them walked back into the room and sat down. Morgan spoke first. "Look, I will spare you the pleasantries. We're going to get right down to it. We know that a support group met here every couple weeks for the last couple years. We also know that all three of our victims were members of that group. Aren't you one of the leaders, Ms. Lewis?"

Mara's eyes widened in surprise. She coolly smiled at Derek. "Your baby girl tell you that, Agent Morgan?"

"Excuse me?" Derek spat out.

"Oh, I didn't mean to offend you. I just couldn't help but overhear your conversation. I don't know that I've ever heard a work related call that sounded quite like that. Ms. Garcia must be a lucky lady."

This woman had man-eater written all over her. Derek hardened his gaze. "Last time I checked I wasn't the one being questioned in a murder investigation."

Mr. Reitz laughed. "Are you serious? You really think that Ms. Lewis is capable of killing 3 women? How dare you come in here and question the two of us like we're criminals. What evidence do you even have to suggest we have anything to do with it?"

Hotch cleared his throat, attempting to diffuse the tension. "We're going to need a master list of the members of your support group who were active in the last 6 months."

Mara argued, "But that information is confidential. These women want nothing more than to be left alone."

Hotch continued, "I don't care if it's confidential. If this killer continues, more of their lives could be at stake. This is top priority, and I want those names within the hour."

"Can't your little lady do that for you?" She sneered.

Derek bristled. "She already did. We just want to make sure the information we found is accurate and up to date. We want the information from your own personal files. Is that clear?"

"Crystal." She replied as she hurried out of the office.

Hotch turned to Mr. Lewis. "We will be back here tomorrow to conduct interviews with the members of the support group. You need to cancel any classes being held in this department during that time. We will question every woman associated with the group, as well as the leadership involved. We will not tolerate anyone who tries to hinder this investigation. We need your full cooperation."

Morgan and Hotch walked out of the office and headed down the hallway.

Hotch quickly made a phone call. "Garcia, how many women in the support group have been active in the last 6 months?"

"That would be a grand total of 22. If you subtract our victims that leaves us with 19 women."

"Garcia, we're going to send you an updated list of support group members. I need you to get with the rest of the team, divide up the names and start making phone calls. We're bringing all of them in for questioning."

"All of them, sir?"

"Yes, Garcia. Is that a problem?"

"No sir, I'll get on it ASAP."

Derek stepped outside the building. "I hope this works. It's been 2 days since the last murder. The cooling off period for this unsub has been between 3-5 days. We don't have a lot of time."

Hotch stared vacantly. "I think we're focusing in the right places. Let's just hope we're not too late."


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry for the delayed update. I try to get one out once a week. Hope you all enjoy! Thanks to all who have reviewed so far, its such an encouragement!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or any characters therein.**

* * *

Penelope rubbed her eyes, willing them to stay open. She had finished the names on her list of contacts. All but one on her list responded and were willing to come in the next morning for questioning.

The rest of the team gradually completed their lists and met back up in the hotel lobby. Hotch spoke first, "From the looks of it we have managed to successfully contact and bring in all but two of our group members as well as related staff. There'll be nothing further. Get some rest. I want everyone back at the college at 0730 for a briefing, then interviews to begin at 0800. Goodnight, everyone."

Emily and J.J. walked toward the elevators to head to the room the two of them shared with Penelope. Rossi and Reid stepped outside for some fresh air before heading up themselves.

Penelope sat in the lobby of the hotel staring into nothing, exhausted beyond words. Derek sat down in the chair beside her.

"I think it's past your bed time, baby girl." Derek spoke softly as he tugged on the braid of her hair.

Penelope looked into his eyes with such seriousness it caught him off guard.

"How do you do it?" she whispered.

"Do what?"

"Hold on to your innocence, to continue to trust other people, to see any good at all?" A tear ran down Penelope's face as she continued.

"I've always tried to find the best in people. I thought if I could look into a criminal's past I could find an explanation for their behavior. I could find something that made me believe that the evil things they did were only done because such evil had been done to them. But it didn't make me feel better. Someone is stabbing and strangling innocent women. Women who've already been abused in the past."

Penelope looked hard into his eyes. "I feel nothing for this unsub, Derek. Nothing but anger and rage. How do you do it? How do you not want to kill these people when you come face to face with them in an interrogation room? How do you go out into the world and trust another human being with your life after cases like this."

Derek let out a deep sigh and grabbed her hand in a tight grip. "Your eyes cannot unsee the brutality of these cases. Your hands cannot unfeel the coldness of a body after death. It changes people, Penelope. It's changing you. But it doesn't have to turn you into a calloused shell of a human being. You take that rage, that anger, and you harness it. Use it to interrogate suspects, use it to give compassion to family members who are hurting, use it to hack into computer systems and find valuable information that can help solve a case."

He held her cheek with his hand. "Baby girl, this is normal. You're doing an amazing job, you just have to go back to your world of pink fuzzy pens and cute kittens sometimes to erase the other images you see."

She smiled as she put turned her head to kiss his palm. "Is that why I found a fuzzy pen on your desk?"

Derek broke out into a smile. "Guilty. Though I'd say I kept that on my desk for more reasons than you think."

Penelope smiled at him. "You know, as I was packing my things a few days ago, I told myself that this was my opportunity to show you how strong I was. I wanted to prove to you that I could hold my own and contribute like J.J. or Emily. No more codependent, gullible, Penelope Garcia."

"Penelope, you have nothing to prove to me. I've always known you could take care of yourself, and you've always been more than a technical analyst to this team. But being strong doesn't mean you can't let people take care of you, it doesn't mean you have to do this all alone."

After a few minutes of silence Penelope stood up and spoke quietly. "We should get to bed, my love. Thank you for the sweet words." She stood on her toes and hugged him.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and breathed in her scent. He pulled back and looked at her tired eyes. "How come you haven't been wearing your glasses?"

"Occupational hazard. When I was in physical training I started wearing contacts. The instructors always mentioned that contacts were better when working in the field. You know, in case I have to chase a bad guy."

Derek brushed his hands where her glasses usually covered her face. "I miss them. They're just…you." He smiled shyly.

Derek heard a voice from behind. "Is this what you would define as pillow talk?"

"It meant something else when I was young." Rossi winked as he and Reid passed through the lobby.

Penelope blushed as she excused herself to her room.

Derek watched her quickly enter the elevator. Rossi looked at him with a grin. "I hope we weren't interrupting anything."

Derek shook his head.

Rossi leaned in, his voice taking on a fatherly tone. "I will say this. If you're going to make a move, don't do it in the middle of a murder investigation. The girl deserves more than that."

"Listen Rossi, I don't know what you think is going on between us but I assure you…"

He put his hands up. "I'm sorry, forget I said anything."

Reid spoke up. "I disagree to your previous advice. Delay is the deadliest form of denial. I was reading in the Modern Psychologist Journal that the number of people engaged in workplace romances rose from 15% to 40% in the last 5 years. It's said that common similarities between two coworkers and not initial physical attraction was the reasoning for the start of such relationships. Most interesting though was the percentage of people who were attracted to coworkers and admitted to thinking about pursuing a relationship with them only to keep the relationship on a shallow level by feeding them occasional compliments and flirting. This ensures that the pursuant is built up by the response they receive from showing interest in the other party, but allows them to keep the relationship platonic because the responder has no belief that the relationship could be anything but purely friendship."

Morgan shook his head, not meeting Reid's gaze. "I'm going to bed. I don't want to hear any more about this. My relationship with Garcia is no one's business but my own. Are we clear?"

Rossi and Reid nodded their heads as Morgan quickly walked toward the elevators.

Rossi patted him on the back. "You're a genius, Reid."

"That's what they tell me." He smiled as the both headed upstairs themselves.

* * *

The team was back at the college early the next morning. Everyone was sitting in a private conference room waiting for Hotch to give instruction. Noticeably tired and withdrawn were Morgan and Garcia. This was not lost on the rest of the team.

Hotch came in the room holding a stack of files.

"Garcia, thank you for staying up a little later last night and printing out background information for today's interviews."

Hotch placed a stack of folders in front of J.J., Emily, and Penelope.

"We're going to do something a little different this time. I want all of our interviews to be conducted by J.J., Prentiss, or Garcia."

Garcia wrung her hands nervously. The men in the room looked surprised at Hotch's decision.

"We have over twenty people to interview and they all have a history of victimization by domestic violence. Each of them have been abused by someone close to them. They need comfort and understanding, they need someone who will not intimidate them. I don't believe they will open up to anyone but another woman. We've got audio and video feed set up in each interview room. Rossi, I want you observing interview's with Prentiss. I will be watching interviews with J.J. And Reid, I need you and Morgan to watch Garcia. We start with high priority first. That means Carla Brown, Mara Lewis, and Joseph Reitz. Let's get started."

* * *

Prentiss looked across the desk at Mara Lewis. She looked calm and composed.

"Ms. Lewis, can you tell me how long you knew the victims prior to their deaths?"

Mara looked up and stared into nothing, as if trying to recall the details.

"I met all three women around the same time. A couple years ago I started doing research for my dissertation. I was intrigued by families with history of domestic violence and how it affected children in the home. I wanted to look at the racial implications. Specifically violence in bi-racial homes and how that affected the relationships sought by the affected child later in life. I decided the best way to do this was to start a support group of sorts. What better way to talk to women than to create a safe environment to do so."

Prentiss interrupted her, "Were all of these women aware at the time that this support group was created for the purpose of research?"

"Not at the time, no. We figured we'd get more of an honest response if they were unaware."

Prentiss questioned, "We?"

"Carla, and I. She was also a doctoral student. Carla was researching as well, but her emphasis was on domestic violence and how it affects the victim's psychological state in the long term. Both of us had also been in relationships of domestic violence and felt we could benefit the women by providing a place to share and heal."

Prentiss arched an eyebrow, "All while prodding them for information for your pet project."

"We cared about those women, they weren't just subjects in a study. They were like sisters to us."

Prentiss leaned in closer, "If they were like sisters to you then why didn't you or Carla contact the police after members of your group started being systematically murdered?"

Mara looked down at her hands. "I don't know. We were scared. It was like one of our abusers was out to get us. You spend years trying to heal, but when violence tracks you down again you crumble, just like before, and hide, hoping it goes away."

"Ms. Lewis, where were you on the night of each of the murders?"

"I was here, at the college. Mr. Reitz can corroborate. I log all of my work hours, including dissertation research hours in his office."

"One more question, Ms. Lewis and then you can take a break. Someone must have hurt you very badly to inspire you to dedicate your life's research to the effects of domestic violence on children. Was it your father?"

Mara turned from calm to enraged. She looked at Prentiss with malice. "How dare you talk about my father? You know nothing about him."

Prentiss leaned in once more. "So it was your mother…"

Mara calmed herself, took a deep breath, and plastered a small smile on her face. "I think I'd like to take that break now."

* * *

Rossi looked at Prentiss. "Well, if that's not implicating yourself, I don't know what is."

Prentiss looked toward the interview room. "I'm quite sure of her involvement at this point. She either knows something she isn't telling us, or she's just a hard woman with no empathy using these women to get what she wants. Maybe she didn't come to the police because she was afraid she'd look guilty?"

Rossi spoke, "Let's see if her alibi checks out. I also think we'll get more questions answered after we talk to all of the members of the group. Until then, I don't want her leaving this building."

* * *

Penelope walked into the interview room nervously. She sat down and took a deep breath.

"Ms. Brown, my name is Penelope Garcia, special agent with the FBI. I'd like to ask you a few questions about a support group that you and Mara Lewis have been leading over the last two years."

Carla looked at Penelope with a smirk on her face. No nervousness or fear, something akin to amusement.

"I was hoping I'd get to talk to you." She said.

"I'm sorry?"

"You're her, right? The tech girl who's dating the fine looking agent that was here yesterday?"

Penelope kept a straight face as the tension mounted in her body. "Ms. Brown, the last time I checked you were here to be interviewed because three women you claim to be close to have been brutally murdered. I suggest you keep the smirk off your face and your nose out of my personal business, are we clear?"

Carla arched an eyebrow. "Yes, ma'am."

"I've already gathered some basic information about you and your work from interviews already conducted by my colleagues, so I'll get right to the point. In the weeks leading to her death, Sarah Roberts was reported to have stopped attending meetings due to an altercation with other women in the group. Do you know anything about that?"

Penelope could hear Carla's foot tap against the floor in nervousness. "She didn't like the direction we were taking the group. We started a new kind of therapy, a means to put the past to rest and deal with harbored feelings toward our abusers."

"What kind of new therapy are we talking here?"

"We decided that each member of the support group needed to engage in recovered memory therapy."

Penelope narrowed her eyes in anger. "You made these women relive the most horrific abuses in their lives? To what end?"

"You can't heal from pain and move on unless you've brought the pain back to memory. But we also encouraged our members to participate in another type of therapy. Role-playing. We encouraged the women to write or speak aloud the things they wanted to do to the people that hurt them. The ways they wanted those people to suffer."

Penelope's stomach tightened in sickness. "Pain that these women spent years trying to forget are brought back up, and then you think you're doing them a favor by having them fantasize about committing violent acts themselves?"

"A lot of the women talked about how much it helped them."

"But it didn't help Sarah, did it?"

"Sarah was different. She had a few other women who followed suit. They were different than the rest of the group. They weren't your typical 'battered wives'."

"Excuse me?"

"You know the type. Codependent, naïve, weak, unable to make decisions on their own, and always putting themselves at fault."

Penelope shook her head. "So they didn't fit into your little plan did they? Couldn't have women with a mind of their own in the group, could you? What does your research tell you now, Ms. Brown?"

Carla smirked once more, but the question was met by eerie silence.

As Morgan was watching the interchange he couldn't help but be impressed at Penelope's interrogation skills. She didn't seem unnerved by this woman at all. He was sure that Carla and Mara had something to do with the murders, but all they had was circumstantial evidence, nothing solid to link them to the crime scene.

As he continued to observe the interview he was tapped on the shoulder from behind. Hotch spoke quietly. "There's been another murder. Body was found at an apartment building only a few miles from here. Victim hasn't been identified yet, but the victimology matches our unsub. I need you to assign the rest of Garcia's interviews to J.J. or Prentiss. We're going to need her at the ready to comb through evidence. You and I are heading to the crime scene."

* * *

Garcia had been pulled from the interview room was walking in between Morgan and Hotch as details of a new murder were explained to her. They were escorting her to her makeshift office before they headed to the new crime scene.

She spoke quietly. "Do we have to start over now? All of our potential suspects have been at the college all morning."

Hotch answered, "We don't know yet, Garcia. The crime scene will be able to tell us a lot more. Let's hope the unsub has slipped up and made a mistake. We still haven't ruled out the possibility of there being an accomplice. So until we get back, no one being interviewed is allowed to leave without direct order from me."

Derek looked at Hotch. They both shared a look of knowing. Knowing that the crime scene they were about to walk into would be far worse than those before.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds**

**Thank you to everyone who has been reading this story! I'm enjoying writing it so much! Thank you for your continued encouragement and feedback, its always appreciated! Let me know if you enjoy this chapter! Next chapter will be up in a few days.  
**

* * *

As Morgan and Hotch were walking up to the front porch of the crime scene, Morgan's phone started to ring.

"Baby girl, we just got here, we don't have anything…"

"I know who the victim is. My biggest fear was that one of the two women we didn't get a call back from would be the next victim. I checked the list of no show's with the address you were headed to. Denise Moore, she was just 25 years old."

"Garcia, let me call you back. We just walked in."

"She knows the ID of our victim, doesn't she?" Hotch asked without looking at him.

Just then their phones vibrated, signaling a new message. No doubt, Garcia had sent them the information on their victim.

As the two of them walked through the door, the first change in MO was evident.

Derek looked at the splintered door frame. "This was not an invited guest. The door was broken down."

Hotch was already kneeling down in front of the victim when Derek came up from behind.

"Morgan, wait, you don't need to…"

Derek didn't understand why Hotch was standing in front of the body in an attempt to block him from seeing it. Understanding dawned as Hotch moved out of the way.

Derek's eyes widened and a knot formed in his stomach. He thought he was going to be sick. The blonde hair in a side braid, high heels, and pink tinted cat-eye glasses.

Morgan turned from the woman, willing himself not to pass out. She looked just like Penelope. Had they not just dropped her off at the precinct, he would have sworn it was her.

"Morgan, do you need a minute?"

He waved Hotch away, "No, I'm fine. It just shocked me. I mean, the resemblance is uncanny."

Hotch shook his head. "Look at the injuries, Morgan. The stab wounds are the same, but they're so deep there are scratch marks on the wood floor beneath her. And her neck, those were made by large hands."

Morgan looked at her disheveled appearance. She had bruises on her arms and legs, and her clothes were torn. He stood up and walked away from the girl willing himself to take deep breaths to keep from feeling lightheaded. "I think our victim may have been sexually assaulted. We'll need the medical examiner to confirm."

Hotch looked at Morgan. "There's no doubt in my mind that this murder was committed by a different unsub than the others, but I'm leaning more toward this being an accomplice than a copycat. None of the specifics of the case have been released to the public. Only the unsub and law enforcement would know the positions of the stab wounds and strangulation."

All Morgan could see was blood, everywhere. This was a murder of passion, and rage. A murder committed by a large and controlling man. Something caught his eye that he had missed before. Just inches away from the victim's body, amidst the pools of blood, was a footprint.

"Hotch, do you see that?"

"Let me get a picture of it, we need to send it to Garcia and see if she can get anything from it faster than the forensics team can." Hotch answered.

Morgan just looked back at him, hoping that his unspoken request would be heard. He never shied from calling her, but right now he couldn't do it.

Hotch took the picture and called Penelope with the information.

Penelope answered before the end of the first ring. "Sir, is Derek okay, did something happen?"

"Is there any reason why he wouldn't be okay?" Hotch asked.

She calmed her breathing. "No sir, its just that when the team is at a crime scene Derek is usually the one who calls me, and it usually isn't a good sign when he doesn't."

Hotch smiled in sadness of how right she was. He willed himself not to let on as to the severity of the murder.

"It's a tough crime scene Garcia, we can give you more details as we get them. Right now I need you to put this print into your database. I want to know size, brand, origin, whatever you've got."

"Yes, sir. I'll call you when I find something."

* * *

Hotch turned back to the scene to find Morgan looking anywhere but at the victim. He looked up as Hotch stepped closer to him.

"She's safe isn't she?" Derek questioned with a note of fear in his voice.

"We have no reason to believe this unsub is targeting anyone from the team or law enforcement. All evidence points to a personal attack on the women of this support group who share commonalities. Garcia is in the middle of a police precinct. When not with them, she's with us. If you ask me, she couldn't be in better hands."

* * *

Penelope entered the print into the FBI's database and waited to see if a match was found. Less than a minute later the computer search gave them the answers they were seeking. Garcia quickly dialed Morgan's number. After three rings he picked up.

"Hey mama, tell me you got some answers for us." His sentiment was forced, but she was just happy to hear his voice.

"Handsome, you're in luck. Our shoe-print belongs to a large male with a solid foundation. Size 13, Twin Gore canvas deck shoes, no arch. I don't know if you are familiar with this type of shoe, but…"

Derek cut her off, "We're looking for a former prison inmate."

Penelope smiled. "You got it, hot stuff. I narrowed it down to 12 facilities within a 5 state radius that specifically issue these shoes."

Hotch spoke up, "Garcia, I want you to look for inmates who have been released in the last 4 weeks. I also want you to cross-reference that with prisoners serving time for crimes against women, specifically domestic violence that was racially motivated."

"I'll call you as soon as I have something."

"Penelope, be safe." Morgan said quickly.

Penelope heard him hang up. She was confused by his last comment. Something was going on with him. He sounded scared.

* * *

Rossi was observing one of the last interviews left when his phone started to ring.

"Hotch, I hope you and Morgan found something at the crime scene, because we're not getting much from the interviews."

"The crime scene was brutal. Other than the two stab wounds and strangulation, nothing from this murder fits the profile of the others. She was stabbed so hard there were scratches in the floor beneath her."

"Do you think this is an accomplice?" Rossi questioned.

"I'm sure of it. The details are too precise for it not to be. I'm having the crime scene photos sent over to the precinct for the team to look at once you're through with interviews. Rossi…I have to warn you, our victim bears a striking resemblance to Penelope. Derek is shaken up, to say the least. We did find a shoe print at the scene and Garcia is working to find us a match. You said you haven't gotten much from the women?"

Rossi sighed. "As far as interviews go, most of the women have great respect for Mara and Carla. They act like these women really helped them deal with the demons of their past. A few of them were on opposing sides and left the group not long after our victims. None seemed to distrust the leaders, just shook up as they know they're being targeted. We do have one small problem. Good ole Mr. Reitz started giving women permission to leave when their interviews were over. He told them that we had no warrants and couldn't keep them here"

Hotch answered, "Well, he's right that we don't have warrants for them, but this just made our job a lot harder. Anyone who is still at the college that you believe knows something or could have a vested interest in these crimes, bring back to the precinct. Call local PD and have them place units close to the homes of each of the group members. Especially any other no-shows. We'll meet you back at the station."

* * *

Morgan and Hotch were on their way back when Garcia called. "Tell me something good, Garcia."

"Well, darlin', I don't know how good this news will be. Using the parameters you gave me I was able to narrow the field to 15 inmates. That's right my loves, 15 men were released in the last 4 weeks who were imprisoned on charges relating to racially motivated domestic violence in various parts of the surrounding 5 states who just happen to fancy that beautiful prison issue footwear. As you know 15 is no good. I decided to look for connections between the inmates and our support group ladies and came up with zilch. So, in a last ditch effort I ran the inmates through ViCAP to see if any of their crimes matched our unsub's in any way, and I got a hit."

Penelope stopped as she saw the rest of the team making their way toward her. She waved them in and put Morgan and Hotch on speaker.

"Garcia, are you still there?" Hotch questioned.

"We just walked in." Emily spoke as she and the rest took a seat.

Penelope cleared her throat. "As I was saying, I found an inmate, Mr. Charles Pratt, 55 years old, released from Pontiac Correctional Center a little over 4 weeks ago after serving 23 years for the death of his wife Marilyn Lewis-Pratt. Here's where it gets icky. Marilyn was found in their home stabbed twice in the side and strangled. Charles claimed that he had come home from a night of drinking, heard someone in the bedroom upstairs, and thinking it was someone attempting to rob the place, killed them on the spot. Charles said that his wife was supposed to be at work, which is why he didn't realize it was her. Long story short, Charles was charged with manslaughter."

Morgan spoke up, "The MO is similar but what else do we have to connect him to the case?"

"It says here in the police reports that after they took Charles into custody and removed Marilyn's body from the home, they found a little girl hiding in a closet upstairs. Their daughter, 4 year old Mara Pratt, saw everything. She was taken away and placed in the custody of Charles' mother. I didn't find a match when I ran the women's names from the support group because the woman we're looking for changed her name. Mara Pratt took her mother's maiden name, Lewis, when she turned 18."

Reid questioned, "Why would a child who witnessed the death of her mother at the hands of her father lash out against women who reminded her of her mom? Wouldn't it make more sense if she were going after men who met the same similarities as her father?"

J.J. pondered, "She was only 4 years old. Maybe she didn't remember what she had seen, or had been manipulated by her grandmother into believing her father had somehow been unjustly punished."

Garcia jumped back in. "According to prison visitation records, Mara visited her dad once a week with her grandmother since she was a wee little thing. I'm going to guess she also had written contact with him."

Hotch interrupted them all. "J.J, I need you to notify the PD as to the identities of our two suspects. Garcia, I need an address for Mara Lewis, as well as Carla Brown. I want both locations searched as I'm sure Mara will be looking for a place to run. Reid and J.J., I want you at the Brown location. Morgan and I will take the Lewis location. Emily, and Rossi, I want you to stay here with Garcia. Help her search for any other locations frequented by our suspects. If we come up empty, I want some more options."

* * *

With everyone suited up in their gear and wired, each headed to their perspective locations. As Garcia was looking up potential safe places for their suspects, a folder on the conference table caught her eye. She didn't remember seeing it there before. As soon as she opened it she wished she could take it back. Penelope stared into eyes that looked much like her own. A beautiful young woman, with soft blonde hair, was staring at her with a vacant and horrified expression. She had blood all over her, and bruises covered her body. What were the odds that a victim looked just like her? She traced her fingers over the glasses on the girls face as tears ran down her own. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.

That's when realization dawned on her. Derek not calling her at the crime scene, and then telling her to be safe. He was worried. For her.

Rossi turned to her. "Everything okay?"

She turned to him, face wet from the course of tears.

"I see you decided to take a look at our most recent victim?"

Rossi grabbed her shoulder, forcing her to face him.

"Look at me. You're safe. We're gonna catch this guy before he hurts another innocent woman, do you hear me?"

Garcia asked, "Is that why I'm here in the office and they're out in the field? Are they trying to protect me, or do they not think I'm capable of handling this case professionally?"

Rossi smiled, "Well if that's true, I guess that means they question mine and Emily's skills as well. If that sounds absurd, that's because it is. Hotch believes strongly in your newly acquired skills, but if he has you here that means that he believes you are a greater asset to the team where he put you."

He squeezed her shoulder with his hand. "Now let's see what we can find on these two."

* * *

Hotch's voice crackled across the wire. "I need your current locations. Morgan and I are about 12 minutes out."

J.J. answered. "We are 8 minutes away from the house. We've got a couple units a few minutes behind us for back up."

"Rossi, do we have any other locations we need to make a priority?"

"Hang tight, Garcia thinks she has something."

"Sir, I was looking up additional information on the family when I found a death certificate. Mara's grandmother died about 6 weeks ago. Looks like the home was left to her in the will. Maybe her death was a stressor, and what better place to hide out than a newly acquired piece of property?"

"Good work. Rossi, I want you to take Prentiss and Garcia with you and secure this location. I would say to wait until we check the others, but we don't have that kind of time."

"Understood. We're leaving now."

* * *

Garcia quickly put her vest on, and attached her holster to her side. This was real. Unlike all the times she had practiced before, this was different. This was her family. This was her life.

Prentiss and Rossi looked up at her as they walked to the SUV.

"Penelope, are you ready?" Emily asked softly.

"Lets do this." Penelope answered curtly.

Rossi nodded and the three took off toward their destination.

* * *

Morgan and Hotch arrived at the Lewis house a few minutes later. Hotch took the front and Morgan headed to the back.

Hotch looked through the windows and saw no movement.

"Mara Lewis, this is the FBI, We have you surrounded." His words were met with silence.

Hotch took his foot and busted down the door, pressing himself against the outside wall with his gun up in anticipation.

He quickly moved from the living room to the hallway. "Clear." He reported to Morgan.

Derek was making his way through the back of the house. The bedroom and kitchen were quiet too. "Clear."

They met back up in the hallway.

"No one's here." Hotch stated.

"Look around and see if there's any evidence of her communication with her father. It might tip us off to where they might be."

* * *

J.J.'s breathless voice came across the wire. "Hotch, there was no sign of Lewis or her father. But we have Carla in custody. We caught her packing her car and trying to leave. She ran when we cornered her. She's refusing to answer any questions, and keeps saying she knows nothing about Mara's involvement in the murders."

"Good work, J.J. We'll see you and Reid back at the precinct."

Hotch patched through to Rossi. "David, have you reached the location?"

"We just pulled up. Stay on the frequency, we're getting out now." Rossi spoke quietly.

"We have backup, they should be a couple minutes behind us."

Rossi approached the front door to find it unlocked. He slowly crept through the entryway. Prentiss and Garcia quickly went around the side and approached the back door. Emily headed through the back while Garcia directed her attention to the garage.

Rossi shouted, "Clear".

Prentiss made her way through the back rooms when she heard a shout in the backyard.

"FBI!"

Garcia's heart pounded in her chest when she saw Charles Pratt run from the garage to a van parked near the alley. He turned toward her and she saw it, a gun. He raised it at her as she shouted, "Drop your weapon!"

* * *

Morgan and Hotch were listening to every word as they quickly left the house and jumped in the SUV. They could hear Rossi and Prentiss clearing rooms, but not Garcia. She must not have been wearing a wire. Just then they heard a muffled shout. They must have found them.

Just then they heard something across the wire that they had not expected. A gun shot, followed by Prentiss yelling the one name they had hoped was not involved in the gun fire, "Garcia!"


	7. Chapter 7

**So sorry for the time its taken to update! I had gotten in the habit of updating once a week. Back on schedule hopefully. ****Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Previously...

_Garcia's heart pounded in her chest when she saw Charles Pratt run from the garage to a van parked near the alley. He turned toward her and she saw it, a gun. He raised it at her as she shouted, "Drop your weapon!"_

_Morgan and Hotch were listening to every word as they quickly left the house and jumped in the SUV. They could hear Rossi and Prentiss clearing rooms, but not Garcia. She must not have been wearing a wire. Just then they heard a muffled shout. They must have found them._

_Just then they heard something across the wire that they had not expected. A gun shot, followed by Prentiss yelling the one name they had hoped was not involved in the gun fire, "Garcia!"_

* * *

As soon as Charles raised his weapon, she knew she only had a split second to make a decision. Garcia fired her weapon, grazing his shoulder. Before she could lower her weapon and move toward him an arm closed around her neck and her back was pressed against their chest.

"Ms. Garcia, it's so good to finally meet you." Mara Lewis tightened her grip around Penelope's neck. "I'm surprised Agent Morgan let you go on such a dangerous job, seeing as you fit so perfectly into our little plan."

"Let her go!" Rossi shouted as he lifted his weapon at her.

Mara smiled as she lifted a knife from her pocket and held it to Penelope's neck.

"Or what, you'll shoot me?" A trickle of blood ran down the blade as she pressed it to Penelope's skin.

"Put your weapons down, or I'll slit her throat right here."

Emily and Rossi slowly laid their guns on the ground.

Prentiss put her hands up in defense as she began to speak. "Mara, you don't have to this. She's done nothing to you. Let her go, and let's talk about this."

Charles had slowly made his way inside the van while the agents stood helplessly at the mercy of Penelope's captor.

Sirens could be heard in the distance.

Mara looked at the agents with rage in her eyes. "You don't get it, do you? You have no idea who she is, or what she'll do, what she's capable of." Blood dripped down Penelope's neck.

"I'm doing Agent Morgan a favor."

Mara slowly backed toward the sliding door of the van.

Penelope began to panic. She couldn't control her breathing and tears clouded her eyes. She was going to die. The grip on her neck grew tighter and her vision started to blur. She was thrown into the back of the van and the door was slammed shut behind them.

Prentiss and Rossi looked on in horror as Penelope was shoved into the back of the van. As the door slid shut and the van peeled out of the alley, they grabbed their weapons and ran. They aimed at the van but lowered their guns for fear of injuring Penelope in the process.

Rossi called on the wire, "I need an APB on a white utility van, early 2000 model, no plates. Heading west on 15th. The vehicle is carrying three occupants. Wanted suspects Mara Lewis, and Charles Pratt, and one hostage, Penelope Garcia, Federal Agent. Suspects are armed and dangerous."

* * *

Emily headed toward the front of the house as Hotch and Morgan jumped out of their SUV.

"Where is she?" Morgan yelled. He grabbed Rossi's shirt collar. "I said, where the hell is she?"

Hotch pulled Morgan away. "Derek! This is not the time."

Derek shrugged him off. "Where was her backup? Why wasn't anyone with her? This was her first case as an agent, why did you leave her alone?"

Hotch got directly in his face. "Derek I am warning you to stand down. You and I both know that blaming David and Emily isn't going to bring Penelope back any quicker. Now I suggest you take a minute and compose yourself so we can work on getting her back."

Derek's eyes filled with angry tears as he walked toward the alley. He punched the side of the garage, not noticing the pain in his hand before crouching on the ground where her gun had been dropped.

"It's my fault. I had a feeling she was in danger. We were too close. I should have had her taken off the case."

Emily crouched down beside him. "Have you met Penelope Garcia? Do you really think she would have listened if you had told her to stay behind? She wants to prove herself, Derek."

He shook his head in anger. "You think I don't know that? I'd rather her be back at the precinct seething mad at me than at the hands of a murderer."

Rossi walked up from behind and spoke with quiet confidence. "We're gonna find her. And we will make them pay."

* * *

Garcia awoke to hushed voices of a man and a woman. She looked up and could see trees and houses quickly pass, reflected in the window. She was still in the van.

Charles deep voice spoke directly above her. "Looks like our sleeping beauty is awake." As soon as the words were out of his mouth her head was slammed into door by the impact of the back of his hand to her cheek. She could taste blood in her mouth. "That's for taking a shot at me. That's just a taste of what's coming."

Mara scolded him as they drove. "Keep your hands off her until we get somewhere safe. This wasn't part of the plan. We should have been miles away by now. We need to ditch this van before they track us down."

Charles took some tape that had been in the back of the van and pressed it tightly to Penelope's mouth. "In case you get any ideas," he spoke with his face inches from hers. He took his hand and slowly slid it along the top of her shirt collar, touching the skin above the first button.

Penelope's eyes rolled back, she was going to be sick. Derek had been right, she wasn't cut out for this. Fine agent she was, couldn't even arrest a suspect without being taken hostage. Oh, Derek. He was probably so worried.

Mara pulled up beside her car that she had parked a few miles away. They quickly moved Penelope into the floorboard of the backseat. Mara sped away in hopes of putting as many miles as possible between them and the police.

* * *

Back at the precinct J.J and Reid approached the team.

Reid spoke first, "We heard everything on dispatch. Has anyone spotted the van?"

As everyone shook their heads in answer, Hotch quickly walked into the room just having ended a phone call.

"Police just reported an abandoned van a few miles away."

"J.J, I need you and Prentiss to handle the press. Make sure Mara Lewis and Charles Pratt's information is out there. I want their pictures plastered all over media outlets. If they move, we need to know about it. Rossi, I need you to look through Garcia's computer, see if she found any additional information on either suspect we don't know about yet. The rest of us are headed out to get a look at the van."

* * *

Garcia tried to calm her racing heart. She knew the longer she was in the car, the harder it would be for the team to find her. Penelope knew her best chance was to get them to stop the car, to take her somewhere close. She had nothing to lose. Penelope started to struggle against her bindings, thrashing in the floor of the backseat.

Charles turned around in the seat and grabbed her neck, squeezing until she began to see black. "I thought I told you to shut up?"

Garcia began to kick at the car door in an attempt to reach the handle. She felt the car swerve to the side of the road and come to an abrupt stop. Penelope saw Mara get out and open the back door. She had a knife in her hand. She grabbed Penelope's hair and jerked her head up. "You are either going to shut your mouth, or I'm going to end this right here." Penelope's muffled voice could be heard behind the tape.

Mara grabbed hold of the tape and none too gently ripped it off of her mouth.

Penelope stared right into her eyes and said, "Then do it. What's stopping you? Do I remind you too much of your mother, Mara?"

"Shut up! You don't know anything about my mother. She deserved was she got. She destroyed my family."

"Is that what your grandmother told you? Or your dad?" Penelope knew what was coming the second the words left her mouth. Her head was knocked back against the floor board by Charles fist.

Penelope looked up at Mara, blood dripping from a cut above her eye. "They're going to find you, Mara."

Mara dropped the knife, hurriedly put the tape back across Penelope's mouth and got back in the driver's seat. She looked over at Charles. "Change of plans. We're going to take a little trip down memory lane. She's right, they're going find us. But it doesn't mean she'll be alive when they do."

* * *

Morgan opened the sliding door of the van. Empty. Part of him was glad she wasn't in there, it meant there was still hope she was alive. The van was humid, a stale odor permeated the air inside. He could smell sweat and blood. He could see it all over the floor of the backseat.

Hotch looked up, "It may not be hers, she wounded Pratt when he was trying to get away."

Morgan nodded. He knew Hotch was trying to be encouraging, but even if it was true, it still didn't bode well for Penelope.

After completing a search of the van, they didn't turn up anything that was getting them any closer to finding Penelope and bringing the suspects into custody.

As they were speaking to the forensics team concerning the blood traces, Hotch's phone rang.

"Go ahead, Rossi."

* * *

Rossi stared into the computer screen, unsure of what he was seeing. "I'm no tech genius, but I believe our little kitten has set up some type of GPS device."

Hotch responded, "A GPS for what?"

"From what it looks like here, there are 7 devices. I'm going to take a wild guess that those devices represent…"

"Us…It's a protective strategy. Her way of making sure we're all okay." Hotch finished quietly.

Reid spoke up, "If we're all being tracked, where are the devices?"

Rossi said, "It looks to me that she hadn't activated them yet."

A few moments of silence passed before Rossi questioned Hotch.

"What do you say, should we try it?"

"We've got nothing to lose. Do it, Rossi."

David activated the program and immediately heard a short beep sound from his watch followed by a vibration. He looked at the screen as 7 dots slowly appeared on a map of the metro area. "I think we got it!" Rossi shouted excitedly.

Morgan, Hotch and Reid looked down at their watches in surprise. "How did she…?" Reid began.

Morgan just laughed and shook his head. "I ask myself the same question."

He whispered quietly to himself, "That's my girl."

* * *

Penelope felt the car stop. Her head was still swimming and she was having a hard time concentrating. The back door opened and she was jerked out of the car. She was roughly grabbed by Charles and she found her face mere inches from his. She also felt the distinct coldness of metal pointed in her side. "Move. Now."

Penelope obeyed as she followed them into what looked to be an abandoned apartment complex. She couldn't place it, but it certainly looked familiar. She was led to a unit on the second floor. It was dark, and unbearably hot. Sweat dripped down her forehead, burning as it touched the wounds from being slammed against the floor of the car. As they walked in, Penelope realized where they were. She had seen this place in crime scene photos. It was Mara's childhood home. The place that her mother had been murdered at the hands of Charles Pratt.

Charles smiled as he ran his hands up and down the walls.

Penelope backed toward a corner as Mara pulled out her knife. She slowly walked toward her until Penelope's back hit the wall. She felt the sharp end of the knife as Mara traced her cheek with it.

"What does he see in you?" Mara whispered in her ear.

"You're weak, and so insecure. I can see it in your eyes. You act so tough on the outside, Ms. Garcia, but I can see through the façade. You're not good enough for him. You know that, right? He deserves someone strong, someone beautiful, someone faithful."

Penelope saw the distance in Mara's eyes. They were mere inches from her face, but she seemed to be looking at someone else. Something snapped and Mara grabbed Penelope's braid, jerking her to the floor. Mara straddled Penelope's waist and placed one hand tightly around her neck. Penelope could feel the knife as it was poised over her left side.

Mara smiled, her face darkened in the dimly lit room. "I never got to see the look on her face when he did it. I never got to feel the life leave her body. But I'm not hiding in the closet this time."

Before she realized what was happening Penelope screamed as the knife was plunged into her side. She gasped in pain, her body felt like it was burning from the inside out. Penelope gasped, failing as she tried to draw a breath. She whimpered as Mara leaned down close to her face.

"There it is, I can see it. The fear. You know you're going to die, don't you?"

Penelope could feel hot tears coursing down her face. She knew she was losing a lot blood. Her eyes were becoming heavy and she felt so cold.

She could hear Charles laugh as he watched in amusement from the other side of the room. She knew he was waiting for his turn.

In the distance she could almost hear the familiar sound of a government vehicle cutting its tires through gravel. But it couldn't be.

Penelope forced her eyes open and stared back into Mara's eyes. "They're coming for you."

Mara smiled manically as she raised the knife once more. "Then let's not disappoint them."


End file.
